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March 11, 2011 / milesandhisfavorites

Kids Of Steel Part One

You might think that all superheroes have powers.  Not true.  When your family’s been in the saving lives and beating up baddies business for over fifteen years, you get pretty competitive with guys like Batman and Hawkeye.  Still, every now and then, you would give a lot for a high-tech gadget.  And that is my superhero wisdom for the day.

Me, my big sister, my little brother, plus parents, all have superpowers.  We’re legends.  Dad’s identity is the Panther.  He has super speed and can camoflauge into his surroundings.  Mom, or Sonica as she is often referred to, can fly at supersonic speeds and has beaten even the fastest Concords in speed tests.  My big sister, Sarah, or Serakles, can produce colorful flames in a variety of shapes and control them with her mind.  My little brother, Boiler, is pyro-kinetic.  And me?  I, Edison can “borrow” light from anything that produces even the slightest glow and turn it into an overpowering energy beam to use against my enemies.  They call us the Steel Trappes.  But the neighbors just call us the Trappes.

Bwang!  Bwang!  Bwang!  TFAS, or the Trappe Family Alarm System, blared off from the most inconspicuous corners of the house.  The computer, the television, the framework of the living room Tiffany lamp.  “Bank alert,” the artificial voice of TFAS said.  “West 34th Street.  Be advised, perpetrators are reportedly armed and dangerous.  They have several hostages.”  Within fifteen seconds of the call, we were all gathered around the coffee table, which had transformed into a glowing database that was currently projecting a hologram map of the bank.  “Okay,” Dad said like a military general about to lead his G.I.s into combat.  “The bank has three seperate safes, two of which are fakes.  Edison, Boiler, you take Fake Vault #1.  Serakles, I think you can handle #2 yourself.  Your mother and I will cut off the robbers at the real vault.  Good luck, team.  Move out!”

While Dad, Mom, and Sarah flew/ran to the bank, me and my little brother (whose real name is Jonathan) grabbed the family dune buggy.  Given the circumstances, and given that our city had a not-too-safe crime rate, it wasn’t unusual to see a couple of kid superheroes in blue and yellow data-patterned costumes, along with elaborate, hawk-themed headpieces that concealed our secret identities, speeding down Main Street in a gray and blue dune buggy.  We arrived at the bank at about the same time as the rest of our family.  Police had yellow taped the area, and made an exception for us.  When we got in, four PVC pipes had been jammed into the ground.  Tied to each one was a bank teller.  Guarding them were five muscular thugs carrying big-barreled handguns.  So this was the preliminary competition.  Weak.

“Me and Boiler’ll distract them,” I told Mom, Dad, and Sarah.  “You guys get to your stations!”  Jonathan’s hair suddenly caught on fire, and his skin turned the color of flames.  His hands lit up with fire, and he began tossing fireballs, taking out two in just a few moments.  I absorbed some light from a line of desk lamps.  The baddies began firing shots at us, but I waved my hand through the air, and a wave of golden light caught the bullets in midair.  I hurled the light back at the thugs, and they were knocked out instantly.  Me and Boiler ran to our station, only to find seven guys with big machine guns trying to open the vault.  I stole the light from the fluorescents and plunged the room into darkness.  There were brief flashes of yellow and orangish-red, and when I opened the door to let in light, we saw seven goons with charred and useless machine guns lying unconscious on the floor of the vault.  I heard grunts and groans coming from the other decoy vault and the real one, so we rushed into the bank lobby to see if we could help.

When we got there, all we saw were goons lying on the floor and bank tellers (untied) walking around, a bit confused.  The police barged in, and when they got there, we had all vanished without a trace.  Later that day, we went out for pizza to celebrate a job well done.  Just as we were finishing a ziti appetizer, a small army of thugs barged in, demanding everything in the cash register.  Sarah snapped her fingers, and suddenly each goon was trapped in a miniature orange shark cage that appeared to be made out of light.  No one questioned where the cages had come from, as superhero occurrences were common in this city.  Then we all whipped out our special gold watches.  We pressed a button that was disguised as a tiny diamond, and suddenly the glass case of the watch popped open.  We set the time to exactly 11:11, and suddenly we were in our matching superhero uniforms.

Unfortunately, Sarah’s cage tactic hadn’t worked for very long.  The cages were merely an illusion, meant to make the goons think that they were trapped, but these were some smart goons, which is generally an oxymoron.  They had escaped, and we began to try and stop them from robbing the eatery.  I put out the candles and began blasting light, which caused at least three goons to fall over, knocked out.  There was a ripple in the air, and suddenly Dad was invisible.  Jonathan and Sarah had dove behind the kitchen counter and were blasting flames at the goons.  Mom didn’t have much to do, but she managed to hover above the ground and cause a cyclone to trap a dozen goons.  I saw goons suddenly falling over, and I knew that Dad was using his invisibility to his advantage.  Within minutes, the fight was over, and the goons had been defeated.

Several weeks later…

“Congratulations on stopping Wedgiemann and his plot to send every person on the planet into orbit via waistband.”  The president’s face had appeared on the family television monitor once again, congratulating us on a job well done.  “See you later,” Mom said.  “I have a girl’s night with Mary and Lois.”  Then she grabbed a canvas Comic Con bag and walked out the front door.  Me, Dad, Jonathan and Sarah were alone, without mother supervision.  I grabbed our secret stash of “inappropriate” DVDs and popped open the player.  We were halfway through Goldfinger suddenly the door to the house crashed open with such force, the door stayed intact and flew up the stairs.  Standing on the porch were five slender guys dressed all in black, with ski masks that barely covered their eyes.  “Ninjas,” Dad said, rolling his eyes.  “It’s always ninjas, isn’t it?”  That’s when the so-called ninjas raised fully-loaded FN FALs.

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